


Lavender and Silver Leaves

by Jemima_Puddleduck



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, It’s the year anniversary of missy’s death and I’m sad again, Telepathy, Time Lord Angst, Time Lord Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemima_Puddleduck/pseuds/Jemima_Puddleduck
Summary: The Doctor and Missy may not be able to find each other on floor 507, but as they both lie dying, they can hear each other’s minds louder than ever.





	Lavender and Silver Leaves

The Doctor sighs as he stares up at the sky; it burns above him, the heavens ablaze as he lies in the mud, a dead weight in the ashes. Will he regenerate this time? For once he's not sure. 

Missy fights the surges of pain racking her limbs from the inside out. She wants to scream but her throat is uncomfortably tight. It feels as if she's been sucked into a vacuum; she simply gasps into the void, empty of air. She doesn't want to die, she wasn't ready. Her terrified mind reaches out, grasping for anything she can find before it fades out forever. 

The Doctor feels it. It's unmistakable. The scent of lavender clouds his mind and he almost feels the deep red grass of Gallifrey under his fingertips. _Missy_. Then the fear comes, wave after wave of her terror washing over him. He starts to panic with her, desperately pushing though her grappling thoughts to ask one question; _where are you?_

 _On the ground._ Came the simple response. _I tried to come back._

The Doctor felt tears sting in his eyes and he gazed up at the ceiling, knowing Missy had the same view. _You're on my side?_

 _Of course, you silly sausage, where else would I be?_ She joked, yet sharp sparks of her pain still penetrated The Doctor's mind. He knew she was putting on a brave face; he also knew that she only put on a brave face when something was very, very wrong. 

_Are you dying Missy?_ The whispering thought drifted to her. She suppressed the thoughts of pain with a broken gasp and pushed through. _No._ She told him. He mustn't know. 

_I know that means yes. You have to regenerate this time, remember?_ The Doctor pushed the thought into her mind with some desperation. He didn't think he could take it if she refused to regenerate again. It was hard enough when The Master had been evil, but Missy was good, he had his friend back. He couldn't lose her again. Then the thought arrived that chilled him to the core. _I can't._ His desperate mind sent back a flurry of _Why?_ And _How?_

 _Laser Screwdriver._ Came the response. The Doctor saw the gold light in her mind, the master's chilling laugh. He was brimming with rage at her previous self and longing to pull his dying limbs upright and find her. 

_You've been so good._ He thought, pushing images of the vault into her fading mind. _You've come so far, Missy._

 _Without hope, without witness, without reward._ She pushed back, and he realised she was right. She was going to die alone, with no reward, and there was nothing he could do to help her. The next thought from her mind was trembling, fading and he knew she was almost gone. _I am your friend._

He tried to push childhood memories from his mind to hers, combatting the flood of terrified pleas now emanating from the haze of her dying thoughts. He showed her the red fields of Gallifrey and the twin suns above, the silver leaves glowing under the burnt orange sky. He sent her laughter and the brush of fingers in grass, the feeling of bare toes in shining water and sunlight on the skin. The fearful thoughts coming from Missy slowly abated, whether it was because she was closer to death or because she was calm he couldn't tell. 

The garbled thoughts began to enter The Doctor's mind and he knew she was faltering, she didn't have long. He saw snippets of burning cities, flames licking buildings in long stripes. Hands at the piano keys, hands twisted in bedsheets. Gallifrey's citadel in flames, overrun by Daleks. A flower garden and the scent of lavender and roses. Finally, his own face swam into view, his face as a child, smiling in the sun, then numerous incarnations of himself, all with their eyes sparkling. His current face swam into view, a distinct memory from the vault, she'd caught him staring while she was reading a book. His soft smile was burned into her mind and it was sent to The Doctor in one last fading push of her thoughts. Then it all went black. 

He scrabbled around desperately, trying to find any trace of her on the fringes of his mind. Any pricking senses of pain, any garbled, useless thoughts would have given him hope, but none came. He couldn't move, but he could feel the hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He hardly noticed when he was carried and deposited on the floor of the TARDIS. He continued to cry softly, feeling as if he was an empty, gaping wound. Numbness spread through every limb, weighing them down like lead, phasing out his own pain, but he could still clearly remember hers. She'd been so scared. He sobbed harder, yet silently. She'd died without hope, without witness and without reward, and he'd always be her friend.


End file.
